iqmagi

Saturday, April 02, 2005


I hear her moan as a moist prickly breath upon my neck, a scintillating pronouncement of light echoes throughout, as budding fauna plays under the heaving constellations and lean quietly into the heart of my dubious smile. At one time, a war between the strychnine jowls of my infinitesimal youth, and the genii mandrake of the unconquerable law; sought to seize the venom from the celestial flower of Solomon. A very disturbing oration spoke as a pantomime to negate the auspicious arrow through the crossed limbs of both the governing Beatrice of nature and the sinister predilection of man! But the pink foam of a misanthrope could not forgo the swan Temples of Isis; for, does not the promontory heart begin its restless fire within ensorcelled eye of an owl? We spoke at great length, exchanging salutations of admirable wealth. It was an afternoon in the deepest night, a thin ring of burnt umber bleeds softly into the brightest eerie orange of her eyes. Try as I may to discern the warmth of color, her iris bleached the bone white of her skin to solicit only shadows rich in multiples of gray.


~S~